Why You Should Do More Things Alone

The first time I went to a ballet alone, I worried I’d remember the aloneness of the outing more than the performance itself. But I wanted to try it, my desire to see the show outweighing the nervousness of being new to a city and not knowing who to invite. I had lived alone before, and was comfortable doing things independently. But going to the performance alone had all the intention and eagerness of making plans. It just happened to be with myself.

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That evening, I went into the theater with a single ticket and emerged with a new love: the solo outing.

Nearly a decade later, I still relish buying whatever ticket to a performance I can, stopping for french fries on the way back, and feeling as though I’d stepped into an evening created just for me. I discovered then what many have known all along: There can be something delightful about making plans to do an activity you enjoy alone.

Research suggests there’s something to that. Marketing professors Rebecca K. Ratner and Rebecca W. Hamilton found that people often skip “fun” activities (like seeing a movie, going to a museum, or eating at a restaurant) if they don’t have company. Participants in their research worried about how they would be perceived and consistently underestimated how much they would enjoy the experience solo.

Sometimes, going alone to what’s considered a group activity can create self-consciousness, Thuy-vy T. Nguyen, principal investigator of the Solitude Lab and who also has a Youtube series, Solitude Explained, told me. That feeling, she notes, often stems from internalized fears of judgment.

But solitude and loneliness are not the same thing. “Loneliness is this experience of unmet social needs,” Nguyen explained. Solitude, by contrast, is a more neutral state: one that can be chosen. The difference between choosing to spend time alone and feeling that you have no one to ask to join is profound.

Middlebury College assistant professor of psychology Virginia Thomas draws another useful line between solitude and independence. Solitude isn’t defined by being physically alone. “It’s more accurate to view it as a psychological state where you’re not communicating with or interacting with other people, even if they’re physically around you,” she told me. 

Solitude, she said, can be when your attention turns inward or toward something deeply absorbing like a creative project or reading a book. Going to a concert alone, by contrast, is more the act of doing something independently: you are alone, but your attention is directed outward, on external events others are experiencing at the same time.

Sometimes that immersive quality is part of what draws people in. Ben Bowling, 26, began going to movies alone in college when friends’ schedules were difficult to coordinate. “If you’re waiting on someone else, you’re never going to get anything done that you want to do,” he told me. Watching a movie at home alone is normal, he pointed out; the stigma only appears when the activity becomes public. But in a theater by himself, he says, he gets the “full immersive experience.”

Others describe chances for self-reliance or self-reflection. Destiny Jackson, 32, started with short solo trips a few hours from home before traveling to places like New York and Japan alone. “I fell in love with being independent,” she said. “I fell in love with not having to listen to anybody to do what I want to do.”  

That freedom can also sharpen attention. Meg Edwards, 26, who is rebuilding community in her Ohio hometown after moving away for school and work, loves to hike alone. A self-described “plant nerd,” she prefers moving slowly, stopping to look closely at plants or listen for birds. With a friend, the focus shifts to conversation. Alone, she said, “I’m choosing to catch up with me.”

At its best, the solo outing can feel like a pause—a chance to indulge in something you enjoy. At the very least, it ensures conflicting schedules or not knowing who to invite don’t keep you from something you’ve longed to do. 

To Addie Tsai, 46, solo outings are a way of cultivating a relationship with oneself. In their twenties, Tsai would go alone to an 80s music club to dance all night, drink bottles of water, and enjoy the freedom of not having to take care of or entertain others. Tsai still loves going to bookstores or going out to eat alone. “When you decide to partake in activities alone,” she told me, “you are connecting to them in a completely different way than you would when someone is there.” 

None of this is an argument against community. Relationships are central to wellbeing, and many stressed it’s not a matter of choosing between company and solo activities. They’re different experiences, with different feelings. Access matters, too. Time, money, mobility, and safety shape what kinds of solo experiences are possible.

In fact, Thomas, the Middlebury College psychology professor, notes that chosen solitude can replenish us. “When we give ourselves the alone time we need, we feel rejuvenated or reconnected with ourselves,” she said, “and then we have more to give to our relationships when we rejoin the social world.”

Over the course of my own solo outings, I’ve also experienced unexpected moments of connection. There was a conversation with a neighboring table who noticed a book I was reading, which turned into local book club recommendations. Once, I spent intermission chatting with an usher about what she loved about the job. None of these were life-changing interactions, but they were small points of connection, a reminder that there’s always something to notice.

And some of my closest friendships are strengthened by our time alone. Catching up together always involves recounting the meals we’ve enjoyed out solo, or a meticulously planned solo trip out of town. While writing this, I made plans with friends, and then another plan by myself. A ballet again, The Sleeping Beauty, followed by fries on a Friday night. I remembered the nervous thrill of first stepping into the theater alone, a performance I’d chosen, an evening I planned, and of my younger self’s delight in this activity being all her own.